Oh, Money! Money! Part 25

The Frank Blaisdells had also moved. They were occupying a new house not too far from the grocery store. They had not bought it yet. Mrs.

Jane said that she wished to live in it awhile, so as to be sure she would really like it. Besides, it would save the interest on the money for that much time, anyway. True, she had been a little disturbed when her husband reminded her that they would be paying rent meanwhile. But she said that didn't matter; she was not going to put all that money into a house just yet, anyway,--not till she was sure it was the best they could do for the price.

They, too, were planning a housewarming. Theirs was to come the night after Christmas. Mrs. Jane told her husband that they should not want theirs the same night, of course, as Hattie's, and that if she had hers right away the next night, she could eat up any of the cakes or ice cream that was left from Hattie's party, and thus save buying so much new for herself. But her husband was so indignant over the idea of eating "Hattie's leavings" that she had to give up this part of her plan, though she still arranged to have her housewarming on the day following her sister-in-law's.

Mellicent, like Bessie, was home from school, though not from the same school. Mrs. Jane had found another one that was just as good as Bessie's, she said, and which did not cost near so much money. Mr.

Smith was not living with them now, of course. He was boarding at Miss Maggie Duff's.

Miss Flora was living in the same little rented cottage she had occupied for many years. She said that she should move, of course, when she got through her mourning, but, until then she thought it more suitable for her to stay where she was. She had what she wanted to eat, now, however, and she did not do dressmaking any longer. She still did her own housework, in spite of Harriet Blaisdell's insistence that she get a maid. She said that there was plenty of time for all those things when she had finished her mourning. She went out very little, though she did go to the housewarming at her brother James's--"being a relative, so," she decided that no criticism could be made.

It seemed as if all Hillerton went to that house-warming. Those who were not especially invited to attend went as far as the street or the gate, and looked on enviously. Mrs. Hattie had been very generous with her invitations, however. She said that she had asked everybody who ever pretended to go anywhere. She told Maggie Duff that, of course, after this, she should be more exclusive--very exclusive, in fact; but that this time Jim wanted to ask everybody, and she didn't mind so much--she was really rather glad to have all these people see the house, and all--they certainly never would have the chance again.

Mr. Smith attended with Miss Maggie. Mrs. Hattie had very kindly included him in the invitation. She had asked Father Duff, too, especially, though she said she knew, of course, that he would not go--he never went anywhere. Father Duff bristled up at this, and declared that he guessed he would go, after all, just to show them that he could, if he wanted to. Mrs. Hattie grew actually pale, but Miss Maggie exclaimed joyfully that, of course, he would go--he ought to go, to show proper respect! Father Duff said no then, very decidedly; that nothing could hire him to go, and that he had no respect to show. He declared that he had no use for gossip and gabble and unwholesome eating; and he said that he should not think Maggie would care to go, either,--unless she could be in the kitchen, where it would seem natural to her!

Mrs. Hattie, however, smiled kindly, and said, of course, now she could afford to hire better help than Maggie (caterers from the city and all that), so Maggie would not have to be in the kitchen, and that with practice she would soon learn not to mind at all being 'round among folks in the parlor.

Father Duff had become so apoplectically angry at this that Mr. Smith, who chanced to be present, and who also was very angry, was forced to forget his own wrath in his desire to make the situation easier for Miss Maggie.

He had not supposed that Miss Maggie would go at all, after that. He had even determined not to go himself. But Miss Maggie, after a day's thought, had laughed and had said, with her eyes twinkling: "Oh, well, it doesn't matter, you know,--it doesn't REALLY matter, does it?" And they had gone.

It was a wonderful party. Mr. Smith enjoyed it hugely. He saw almost everybody he knew in Hillerton, and many that he did not know. He heard the Blaisdells and their new wealth discussed from all viewpoints, and he heard some things about the missing millionaire benefactor that were particularly interesting--to him. The general opinion seemed to be that the man was dead; though a few admitted that there was a possibility, of course, that he was merely lost somewhere in darkest South America and would eventually get back to civilization, certainly long before the time came to open the second letter of instructions. Many professed to know the man well, through magazine and newspaper accounts (there were times when Mr. Smith adjusted more carefully the smoked gla.s.ses which he was still wearing); and some had much to say of the millionaire's characteristics, habits, and eccentricities; all of which Mr. Smith enjoyed greatly.

Then, too, there were the Blaisdells themselves. They were all there, even to Miss Flora, who was in dead black; and Mr. Smith talked with them all.

Miss Flora told him that she was so happy she could not sleep nights, but that she was rather glad she couldn't sleep, after all, for she spent the time mourning for poor Mr. Fulton, and thinking how good he had been to her. And THAT made it seem as if she was doing SOMETHING for him. She said, Yes, oh, yes, she was going to stop black mourning in six months, and go into grays and lavenders; and she was glad Mr.

Smith thought that was long enough, quite long enough for the black, but she could not think for a moment of putting on colors now, as he suggested. She said, too, that she had decided not to go to Niagara for the present. And when he demurred at this, she told him that really she would rather not. It would be warmer in the spring, and she would much rather wait till she could enjoy every minute without feeling that--well, that she was almost dancing over the poor man's grave, as it were.

Mr. Smith did not urge her after that. He turned away, indeed, rather precipitately--so precipitately that Miss Flora wondered if she could have said anything to offend him.

Mr. Smith talked next with Mrs. Jane Blaisdell. Mrs. Jane was looking particularly well that evening. Her dress was new, and in good style, yet she in some way looked odd to Mr. Smith. In a moment he knew the reason: she wore no ap.r.o.n. Mr. Smith had never seen her without an ap.r.o.n before. Even on the street she wore a black silk one. He complimented her gallantly on her fine appearance. But Mrs. Jane did not smile. She frowned.

"Yes, I know. Thank you, of course," she answered worriedly. "But it cost an awful lot--this dress did; but Frank and Mellicent would have it. That child!--have you seen her to-night?"

"Miss Mellicent? Yes, in the distance. She, too is looking most charming, Mrs. Blaisdell."

The woman tapped her foot impatiently.

"Yes, I know she is--and some other folks so, too, I notice. Was she with that Pennock boy?"

"Not when I saw her."

"Well, she will be, if she isn't now. He follows her everywhere."

"But I thought--that was broken up." Mr. Smith now was frowning.

"It was. YOU know what that woman said--the insult! But now, since this money came--" She let an expressive gesture complete the sentence.

Mr. Smith laughed.

"I wouldn't worry, Mrs. Blaisdell. I don't think he'll make much headway--now."

"Indeed, he won't--if I can help myself!" flashed the woman indignantly.

"I reckon he won't stand much show with Miss Mellicent--after what's happened."

"I guess he won't," snapped the woman. "He isn't worth half what SHE is now. As if I'd let her look at HIM!"

"But I meant--" Mr. Smith stopped abruptly. There was an odd expression on his face.

Mrs. Blaisdell filled the pause.

"But, really, Mr. Smith, I don't know what I am going to do--with Mellicent," she sighed.

"Do with her?"

"Yes. She's as wild as a hawk and as--as flighty as a humming-bird, since this money came. She's so crazy with joy and excited."

"What if she is?" challenged Mr. Smith, looking suddenly very happy himself. "Youth is the time for joy and laughter; and I'm sure I'm glad she is taking a little pleasure in life."

Mrs. Blaisdell frowned again.

"But, Mr. Smith, you know as well as I do that life isn't all pink dresses and sugar-plums. It is a serious business, and I have tried to bring her up to understand it. I have taught her to be thrifty and economical, and to realize the value of a dollar. But now--she doesn't SEE a dollar but what she wants to spend it. What can I do?"

"You aren't sorry--the money came?" Mr. Smith was eyeing her with a quizzical smile.

"Oh, no, no, indeed!" Mrs. Blaisdell's answer was promptly emphatic.

"And I hope I shall be found worthy of the gift, and able to handle it wisely."

"Er-ah--you mean--" Mr. Smith was looking slightly taken aback.

"I mean that I regard wealth as one of the greatest of trusts, to be wisely administered, Mr. Smith," she amplified a bit importantly.

"Oh-h!" subsided the man.

"That is why it distresses me so to see my daughter so carried away with the mere idea of spending. I thought I'd taught her differently,"

sighed the woman.

"Perhaps you taught her--too well. But I wouldn't worry," smiled Mr.

Smith, as he turned away.

Deliberately then Mr. Smith went in search Of Mellicent. He found her in the music-room, which had been cleared for dancing. She was surrounded by four young men. One held her fan, one carried her white scarf on his arm, a third was handing her a gla.s.s of water. The fourth was apparently writing his name on her dance card. The one with the scarf Mr. Smith recognized as Carl Pennock. The one writing on the dance programme he knew was young Hibbard g.a.y.l.o.r.d.

Mr. Smith did not approach at once. Leaning against a window-casing near by, he watched the kaleidoscopic throng, bestowing a not too conspicuous attention upon the group about Miss Mellicent Blaisdell.

Mellicent was the picture of radiant loveliness. The rose in her cheeks matched the rose of her gown, and her eyes sparkled with happiness. So far as Mr. Smith could see, she dispensed her favors with rare impartiality; though, as he came toward them finally, he realized at once that there was a merry wrangle of some sort afoot. He had not quite reached them when, to his surprise, Mellicent turned to him in very evident relief.

"There, here's Mr. Smith," she cried gayly. "I'm going to sit it out with him. I shan't dance it with either of you."

"Oh, Miss Blaisdell!" protested young g.a.y.l.o.r.d and Carl Pennock abjectly.